Take Me There
by WittyKins
Summary: Two outsiders experience the trials and tribulations of coming of age in New York City. Their accidental encounter allows them both to discover that a perfect love can exist within imperfect beings.
1. Prologue

_**Take Me There**_

By WittyKins

 _Prologue_

* * *

The sun had completed its tour for the day and was replaced by the dark, velvety canvas of the night sky. The blackened canopy, spangled with brightly colored stars, glistened over the bustling urban metropolis.

The night welcomed the inhabitants of the city into its cool embrace, for autumn had finally returned. The chilly wind sashayed its way down the endless streets with a soft whisper, tickling the napes of passersby. Cars with closed windows weaved in and out of traffic lazily; steam rising steadily from the exhaust. The night was relatively silent in the lively city minus the occasional horn that filled the air. People shuffled here and there completely engulfed within their own lives. No one in all of New York City noticed the two shadowy forms overhanging an old red-brick building.

The two figures sat side by side, their feet dangling over the building's ledge. Their heads craned upwards, completely entranced by the assortment of stars that splattered the seemingly endless void.

Nights like tonight were few and far between.

Sighing, the youngest of the nameless figures adjusted his position so that he was facing his friend. They had just partaken in something truly magical and he wasn't too sure what he was supposed to say.

Or if he even was supposed to say anything.

Biting the inside of his lip, he squirmed closer to the other's form while smiling silently at the warmth their body provided. When his friend leaned into his advances, he knew that he had made the right decision.

"That was," the young boy paused as he took a moment to gather his thoughts, "umm… amazing."

"What was amazing, Mikey?" the youngster questioned coyly without taking his eyes off the night sky.

"You know… the…" Mikey mumbled as his sentence began trailing off. After a few moments he felt heat rising to his face. He hoped that his friend would step in and save him from excruciating embarrassment.

"The…kiss?" they added as a small smile began appearing.

"Yeah, erm… that..." the young turtle murmured while glancing away shyly.

"Was that your first time?" his friend questioned while turning to face him, finally taking his attention off the night sky.

"Yeah, why, was it yours?" Mikey blurted, suddenly feeling defensive. It wasn't his fault that he lived an isolating lifestyle in the shadows of New York.

Could his friend tell?

Did he do something wrong?

Was his first kiss really that bad?

Michelangelo began fidgeting with his thumbs nervously. In his young mind, he began toying with the idea of his friend leaving him because he was a bad kisser.

Suddenly, the other figure put a comforting hand on Mikey's carapace, chuckling softly as he carefully rolled the ends of his worn orange bandana between his fingertips. The two teens sat side by side in silence for what seemed like ages, staring at the city below and shifting nervously back and forth, each not quite sure what to say to the other, but enjoying the company nonetheless.

Finally, Mikey's friend broke the silence.

"That was my first kiss."

"Really?" Mikey questioned, his eyes growing wide.

"Yeah, really," his friend remarked. "Why, could you tell?"

"I mean, no… but how would I have known?" Mikey questioned while furrowing his brows. "This was my first kiss too."

The two teens stared at each other with puzzled looks on their faces.

Suddenly, as if a switch was flipped they both fell backwards onto the rooftop, gripping their ribs with laughter. Streams of tears rolled down their faces, leaving behind little dark pools on the rough surface. The teens rolled around and laughed until their fits of glee began sounding more and more like bouts of pain.

"My ribs hurt!" Mikey exclaimed to no one in particular.

"Mine do too. Stop making me laugh," his friend wheezed through bits of laughter.

"No, you're the one making us laugh," Mikey retorted as a fresh wave of tears fell from his face.

The two sat side by side laughing into the night sky. Slowly, their laughter began to wane, eventually reaching a halt. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Enjoying the sounds from the city below. They must have sat in silence for a while because his friend's sudden speaking startled him.

"Do you remember when you knew?" his friend gently asked as he scooted closer to the young turtle.

"When I knew what?" Mikey questioned while gently tilting his head to the side so that he could get a better look at the one he had fallen for. He remembered a lot of things and he wasn't quite sure what his friend was asking.

"When you knew you… y'know… knew that you liked me?"

Mikey tilted his head while carefully raising an eyebrow. If he was being completely honest with himself, he never entertained the thought. He preferred to live in the moment and didn't tend to dwell too much on life's many details.

Had he remembered?

After a few more minutes of silent thinking Mikey wasn't sure if there was one specific grandiose event, or a series of small moments. Glancing back at the teen in front of him, he felt his breath hitch in his throat. The moon was bright tonight and it gave his friend's normally tan skin a beautiful glow. He licked his lips as his eyes rested on his friend's pouty grin.

Like a bee going towards honey, Mikey felt an instinctual pull towards this source of happiness. Closing his eyes, Mikey leaned in, his own lips brushing gently against the cheek of the teen.

The youngster turned, placing a gentle peck on Mikey's quivering lips. Pulling away, the teen's deep green eyes pleaded with Mikey, silently willing him to share what he so desperately desired to know.

"I think I remember when I knew," Mikey sighed breathlessly. "But it's kind of… and I…" Mikey paused embarrassed by his own stammering.

"You don't know where to begin?" his friend offered.

"Yeah, Miles. It's kind a long story, I guess," Mikey stated while falling backwards in defeat.

He heard Miles shuffle near his side. Opening his eyes, he recognized that familiar look. The look Miles had given him every time he asked the question. The only question that, at least in Mikey's opinion, truly mattered. Mikey couldn't stop the small smile that made its way to his lips.

He loved this question because he loved Miles.

He loved every part of him, even his quirks because at the end of the day, Miles' little oddity was nowhere near as strange as his very existence. He loved the closeness and the intimacy of this innocent sharing of information that was about to take place.

Miles sat up clearing his throat dramatically. Glaring down, Mikey chuckled as the boy let a mischievous smirk adorn his youthful features. Carefully, he lay down next to Michelangelo, placing his head in the crook of his plastron. As Miles began reaching up towards his face, Mikey caught the teen's hand midway and guided it towards his eyes.

Mikey allowed his eyes to drift shut.

"Relax, Mike."

He let himself succumb to the warmth that radiated from the teen's hands. The hands that he had grown to love. Or better yet, the hands that belonged to the boy who had captured his heart. The boy who had opened his mind to endless possibilities that he didn't even know existed in the universe. He loved Miles' gift. It was truly magical and it gave them the ability to relive many adventures together.

The feeling of being completely vulnerable to another's embrace was completely terrifying and invigorating. He opened his mind, his heart, and soul to the boy, to Miles, the wandering being looking for somewhere to lay down his roots for the future. He didn't mind sharing. He could let Miles see and experience feelings and events that he never thought of sharing with his own family.

All through the touch of a hand to his eyes.

The feeling of fuzzy weightlessness began setting in. Mikey felt himself becoming more and more removed from the present. He loved this feeling. He felt invincible.

Just before all ties were cut to the present, he heard Miles whisper the question into his ear.

The question…

His question…

No, their question…

"Well, Mikey," Miles voice rang out clear and strong, "if you don't know where to begin, why don't you just take me there?"

And with that, Mikey's tether to the present was cut.

Darkness hit Michelangelo like a stack of bricks, his mind blindly flying through an ethereal realm with no clear end in sight. His perspective of time became more and more distorted as he continued onward with no clear destination in sight. As unsettling as this feeling was, it was familiar. He had taken Miles into the deep recesses of his subconscious on more than one occasion and he found relief in knowing that this particular feeling of endless ambiguity would soon pass.

He knew because he trusted Miles and he would eagerly show Miles everything.

Everything from the very beginning, with that chance encounter, until this moment on the rooftop where they shared their first kiss. As if his silent plea was answered, his flight through the suffocating space began to cease. Slowly, splashes of light began to fill his pitch-black vision.

Familiar sounds and smells titillated his heightened senses as the memory of that fateful night crept into his mind like a ghostly fog. He could smell the scent of buttery popcorn and he could feel energy that provided life to an otherwise cold vessel. A familiar sound began to emerge from the veil of the fine mist, guiding him down the endless well of memories.

This was it, where it all began. Where he will begin his story.

He would show Miles his story of how he fell head over shell in love with him.

* * *

"It takes a village to raise a child," is a popular saying that I find very applicable to all aspects of life. As a new writer, I was humbled by the overwhelming support, education, and encouragement that I have received from this community. Fanfiction offers writers and readers alike with a creative outlet. A means to express ourselves and share our love for creative writing and popular culture with the world. I would like to extend an extra special thanks to Ravenshell and Dondena for their beta reading.

-WK


	2. Chapter One

**Take Me There**

By WittyKins

Chapter One

* * *

" _I feel you, Johanna, I feel you…"_

Dramatic cinematic music swept through the stillness of the damp air as four sets of eyes stared eagerly at the flickering television screen. Shadows, lights, sounds, and the savory scent of buttery movie theater popcorn eloquently danced their way down the concrete walls of the subterranean home filling the normally empty tunnels with life as four young turtles sat entranced by the gentle crescendo of the music.

" _I was half-convinced I'd waken_ _  
_ _Satisfied enough to dream you…"_

It was a Thursday night and that meant it was time for the traditional weekly family movie. After a week filled with trainings, chores, lessons, and patrols, this relaxing event was equally appreciated by the four brothers.

" _Happily I was mistaken, Johanna…"_

Every Thursday the brothers rotated who got to choose the night's movie. This week was the purple clad turtle's turn and Donatello, despite protest from his brothers, eagerly chose the musical _Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street_. He believed, as he stated time and time again, that the movie contained the perfect combination of genres to satisfy their various tastes. There was action, drama, horror, comedy, and of course romance. To him, this decision was a no brainer.

Contrary to his brother's beliefs, Donnie didn't mind the snickers and groans that erupted from the small audience. Personally, the young turtle felt that they could benefit a bit from the finer things in life.

" _I'll steal you, Johanna, I'll steal you…"_

A mixture of expressions had begun etching their way upon the faces of the young teens as the iconic scene featuring Anthony played its way across the screen. Anthony, a young teenage boy, was standing outside of Johanna's bedroom window where she sat daydreaming. Fragile features ornamented the beautiful youthful face while a thick curtain of golden locks softly fell upon her shoulders.

It was, as Donatello mouthed to the television screen, young love at its finest.

" _Do they think that walls can hide you?_ _  
_ _Even now I'm at your window..."_

Leonardo, the oldest in blue, sat stoically taking in the scene. He didn't move much, typical of the oldest brother. He had so many questions leading up to this scene. He understood that certain events had to occur in a film to push cinematic elements, but he already spotted thirty-five, no, thirty-seven red flags including the most recent violation of Anthony trying to gather intel in broad daylight out in the open.

Who had trained this boy?

 _I am in the dark beside you_ _  
_ _Buried sweetly in your yellow hair…"_

Raphael, the second oldest in red, covered his face as laughter threatened to erupt from his shaking form. He absolutely hated musicals because they were not, in his opinion, realistic representations of life. Who busted out into song in the middle of the road? If someone were to do that in New York City, well, they would have a one-way ticket to the county loony bin.

He found this movie to be especially annoying and was playing his own personal game where he would guess when the next song would start.

He had been right thus far.

The movie wasn't a total bust though. In his opinion, Johanna was almost as hot as the woman on the evening news. He typically did not have a thing for blondes, but for Johanna, he'd make an exception. Raphael did appreciate all the film's gore and carnage and anticipating the next victim gave Raphael a thrill.

He also agreed with Sweeny Todd's perspective on life. Sweeny Todd, like him and his family, was constantly being crapped on just for the very nature of existing. What was even better was the fact that Sweeny Todd didn't just hide away in the shadows; he decided to do something about it. Raph had seen some of the darker sides of humanity and believed, like Todd, that a clear majority of people were filled with shit.

" _I feel you, Johanna…"_

Donatello, with tears welling up in his eyes silently sung along with the lyrics; his hands clenching the part of his plastron nearest his heart. He absolutely enjoyed the movie adaptation of _Sweeny Todd_ , identifying strongly with the film's leading characters. Pushing aside revenge, corruption, murder, and love, the more obvious themes that saturated the story line, Donatello appreciated another more tragic theme, the feeling of desire.

Desire.

Yearning.

Longing.

Words that to Donatello seemed to sum up the anguishes and exultations of the heart, mind, and soul. The young turtle admired the beauty in some of life's more tragic occurrences. The sadness that comes with wanting something that is within arm's reach but unattainable was a familiar feeling to all. One's own solitary prison housing a fate, that to many, was worse than death's bitter embrace.

And boy, did he know a thing or two about desire.

"Isn't it beautiful," the genius turtle stated to no one.

" _And one day, I'll steal you_ _  
_ _'Til I'm with you then I'm with you there_ _  
_ _Sweetly buried in your yellow hair…"_

Michelangelo, the youngest turtle in orange was not interested in this movie and he had no problem letting his other brothers know. Every so often he would let out a loud groan or sigh and dramatically adjust his position on the couch. He really wanted to watch a movie with superheroes, not one with super sappy music and mushy gooey stalker love.

"Guys, c'mon!"

Love: it was such a weird word that always made him feel icky. Seeing people kiss on television or even worse, in person, was embarrassing. He had made up his mind. He would never fall in love, ever.

Love was for weirdos and humans. Two things he most definitely was not.

"Dudes, this boy is so creepy!" the young turtle shouted as the song reached its final chord. "Does this Jeffery Dahmer in training not realize what he is saying? – He is talking about stealing her and burying himself in her hair!"

"Her hair!" he shouted while flailing his arms frantically to prove his point.

"Shush!"

"Aww, don't tell me to be quiet, Don," Mikey shouted while crossing his arms across his plastron. "It's your fault for picking this dumb movie."

"Hey, shut it, I'm trying to watch a movie here!"

"Raph," the turtle whined, "don't tell me that you're actually enjoying this movie?"

"Mikey!"

"Leo, can we please watch another movie, you know, one with a little less…everything?"

Turning their heads to face their youngest brother, the three turtles did not hide their frustration. They each had something to gain from the movie and they were not going to let their night become soured by their whiny little brother.

"Mikey, be quiet!"

Silence filled the air as the youngest turtle stared at his three brothers, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't believe that they were into this movie. From the very start, he hated it. The music was eerie, the town was depressing, Mr. Todd was too pale, and the blood raining down from the night sky during the opening credits was disgusting. The worst offense, at least according to the young turtle, was the fact that there was a love story in this backwards town.

Love could never exist in such a dark place.

"Well then," Mikey protested, "if that's how ya feel."

He was met by silence, his three brothers completely intertwined in the film's plot.

Sighing, Michelangelo slowly peeled himself off the couch and trudged towards his skateboard. He no longer wanted to be part of this film or its "culture" as Donatello had put it.

Culture, what the heck does that even mean? Don was always throwing those words around. What was so "culture" about creepy people, love, and murder?

If that was culture, his brothers could have it.

Picking up the worn board, he decided that a solo night ride was just what the doctor ordered. Perhaps he would even go topside. It was late enough so the threat of being seen was practically nonexistent. There was the dumpster not too far from their home. He could always find some treasure hidden amongst the piles of garbage. There was also a huge park a bit from the lair and he had been itching to explore it for a while. The trees and various features strewn throughout the park made it a perfect ninja jungle gym. He could have fun while being stealthy. Best of all, at the heart of the park there was a large hill and the green teen knew that he and his skateboard would have no problem conquering that concrete mountain.

Tiptoeing past his father's room, Mikey practically held his breath. His father had a sixth sense when it came to each of them, and he was half expecting him to appear out of nowhere, halting his late-night excursion. When he successfully made it to the exit tunnel, he smiled and broke into a dead sprint.

When he was a good distance away from the lair, he hopped on his board, shouting with excitement.

He loved skateboarding.

He loved the freedom it gave him. The ability to go as fast as his heart desired was indescribable. Tears collected in the corner of his eyes as he rapidly cut through the air. He kept pushing himself to go faster, and faster, and faster till he imagined himself looking like a green blur against the aged brick. He did not keep track of where he was going, he didn't need to. Life had a funny way of working itself out. In fact, wherever he ended up would be better than staying at home.

He giggled as he imagined his older brothers still glued to their spots on the couch watching that sappy movie. Perhaps next week's movie will be better, the orange ninja thought to himself.

He didn't count on it though…

Leo was up next in the rotation.


	3. Chapter Two

**Take Me There**

By WittyKins

 _Chapter Two_

* * *

The neighborhood park was a popular destination for those who were lucky enough to live within its radius, and its total area was less than a square mile. The park was bordered by a small man-made pond to the east, along with a dense pocket of tightly packed trees with a couple of rolling hills at its core. Filled with a moderately decorated playground, paved walking trails, a merry-go-round, and a small concrete stage, it was an escape from the urban jungle that appealed to individuals of all ages. By day, the park housed street vendors, local performers, and community intramural sporting activates.

An inner-city hub, the cultural epicenter for a community rich in diversity.

It was often joked amongst the area's citizens that on a clear day, even with all the little noises of the city-the car horns blaring, people bustling, sirens screaming in the distance-the sound of laughter could be heard from blocks away. While this statement had long been confirmed as an exaggeration, it did not take an expert to notice that the life of this recreational area dimmed with the passing light of day.

The park became an entirely new entity, its lush green grass appearing ashen under the pale glow of the moonlight, the trees growing more indiscernible against the night sky, the heavily trafficked walkways becoming barren wastelands stretching on for an eternity.

There was no music.

There was no sound of playing.

There was no sign of life.

There was no laughter. Well, there was no _human_ laughter.

By night, the empty park became a haven for an adventurous orange turtle whose glee filled the dead surrounding space.

Riding his skateboard through the park's paved path never grew old for the youngster. The lack of people not only allowed him to forget about having to wear a stupid disguise consisting of uncomfortable human clothing, it also provided him with the room to ride as recklessly as he wished, it made it possible for him to experience surface-level shredding.

New York City was home to some of the country's more eclectic individuals, but the sight of a giant, talking, weapon-wielding turtle still did not sit well with most people. Their father made it his duty to remind them of the world's dangers. Not to mention, they were always on the lookout for the Foot, Shredder, and other outer-worldly enemies.

Suffice it to say, the four turtles did not get out as often as they would have liked. Their place was underground and out of sight.

Michelangelo decided that he was going to live in the moment and take in everything he was feeling. The sights, sounds, smells, and sensations were livening his senses. He did feel bad about sneaking out. He was sure he could have found something to do at home instead of watching that dumb movie and he was fully expecting to experience some form of punishment for his stunt.

"I am king of the universe!" Michelangelo whooped valiantly as he zipped along the paved walkway leading towards the small pond.

However, the future would have to wait.

He could not remember the last time he felt this alive. The fresh, moist air stroked his skin as he made another sharp turn near the park's pond. He jumped and performed tricks without fear of hitting his head on a sewer tunnel or of falling in the toxic, smelly waters that polluted the areas around their home.

After a few minutes, he decided that he had enough skateboarding for one night. Stopping in front of the park's pond, Mikey stared at the stagnant water. He loved bodies of water but he preferred watching rivers. Something about moving water excited the teenage turtle.

Water, in his opinion, shouldn't be contained; rather, it should be free to go where it wanted.

The pond's water, like him, was stuck. It could go nowhere and its potential was limited to the boundaries that someone else had decided for it. Still, it was something nice to look at and he did not know when he would have another opportunity to enjoy a pond in the open like this.

Setting his board carefully on the ground, he sat down and decided to indulge in this small moment.

One day, he would bring his brothers back to this spot. He completely enjoyed looking at the pond by himself, but he would much rather enjoy having others here to enjoy it with him. Besides, there were a lot of flying insects near the water and it would be funny hearing Raph scream bloody murder.

Maybe he would even be able to convince his old man to live a little.

He sat there, on his board listening to the gentle sounds of the night air while slowly willing himself to start heading home. Completely entranced by the moment, he did not notice the clumsy footsteps of a figure emerging from the direction of the park's forest. The form stumbled around quietly while murmuring to itself, heading straight for the pond.

"Oh, come on, not even one star?!"

Michelangelo froze.

His heart began racing in his chest and for once in his life he was happy that he did not have hair because at this present moment it would be standing straight up.

He shook his head. He had to be imagining things.

"There has to be at least one out tonight!"

Wait, there was someone else in the park.

"I can hardly see the moon."

Why was there someone at the park?

It was late at night, and people with any sort of common sense would be safely tucked away in the comfort of their homes. Michelangelo may not have been as smart as his brother Donnie, but he knew that most people who decided to hang out at the park in the middle of the night were usually up to no good.

"Why are the buildings so bright tonight?"

From the individual's voice, he could tell whomever was in the park with him was a boy. Mikey started to survey his surroundings. He was out in the open near a pond without any sort of disguise to hide the fact that he was a walking turtle. If he moved now, he risked the chance of being spotted by whoever was heading his direction.

"This is the exact spot. Why isn't anything happening?"

To his right, Mikey noticed a long row of park benches that offered no hopes of cover. To his left, Mikey spotted a collection of large rocks that would offer some form of temporary cover. Moving quickly, he quietly ducked behind the rocks. Mikey cursed at himself silently when he realized that in his panic to find cover, he had left his skateboard. Peeking around the sharp stones, the young turtle grumbled, there was no way for him to grab his board without being seen.

Could this be a Purple Dragon gang member who had followed him?

A Foot Soldier?

Or maybe it was the Shredder here to cut off his beautiful green head!

"It should be here by now! Where are they?"

Michelangelo began mentally kicking himself for leaving the lair. He wasn't exactly as stealthy as he could have been. He shouted like a lunatic while riding through the park. Whoever this was obviously meeting up with someone else in the park, which was the last thing he needed.

"Ugh, stupid fog, how do people in this city enjoy the sky?"

Mikey furrowed his brow while straining his vision to get a better look at the intruder. Not to be judgmental, but he found it hard to believe that the Shredder or any member of the Purple Dragons took the time to enjoy the night sky while they were in the middle of terrorizing people.

If Donnie were here, he would probably accuse them of lacking "culture".

"Come on fog, move!"

As the figure got a bit closer, Mikey's suspicions were confirmed. He could see the outline of a young teenage boy. His feet shuffling against the grainy cement path in front of the pond's shore. The boy was not walking a straight line- rather he was weaving back and forth with no clear sense of direction. He spun around and cursed silently to himself under his breath, an occasional grunt escaping his mouth all while his head was tilted towards the sky as if he was looking for something or someone.

"I just want to see…"

Squinting his eyes, Mikey could see that the teen was holding a pair of binoculars. Why was he wearing binoculars?

"…my home!"

"What the…" Mikey whispered to himself as he quietly watched the boy, "his home, why would he look towards the sky for his home?"

Why was there a teenage boy strolling through the park in the middle of the night wielding a pair of binoculars?

Did he forget where he lived?

Was he drunk?

Perhaps, he was under the influence of drugs?

These must have been the side effects Master Splinter had warned him about. Shaking his head in disappointment, Mikey couldn't help but to feel slightly sorry for the teen. Maybe he didn't have a sensei to teach him right from wrong. Master Splinter had spent many nights telling them the horror stories of drugs and their effects on one's mind, body, spirit, and relationships with other people.

Groaning, the boy threw his binoculars against the ground while spinning around and pointing an accusing finger towards the city. Everything about his posture read irritation and Mikey could practically see the steam rising from his lean frame.

"Because of you, city, and your bright lights, I can't see the stars in the sky!"

The boy paused and Mikey thought that the teenager was expecting some sort of reply. Suddenly, the boy twisted around and pointed another finger towards the sky. His breathing ragged his other hand clenched in a tight fist at his side.

"Don't think I forgot about you, fog. How dare you cover the beautiful sky!"

Either this kid was a clinical junior astronomer or he was under the influence of something.

As the teen got closer to the pond, Mikey took in the boy's features. Under the dim glow of the lamppost, he could see that the teen had very dark hair though he couldn't make out his face. The boy seemed to be a little taller than Mikey and was incredibly lean, but not scrawny.

Michelangelo sat in complete silence, shocked by the spectacle that was unfolding before his eyes. The boy was shouting, accusing everything around him from blocking his view of the night sky. Mikey wasn't too sure what this kid was expecting, this was New York City after all. If he wanted to do a little stargazing, upstate was where he needed to go.

The teenager stomped around, kicking sand, rocks and dirt as he shared some not so kind words. Suddenly, Michelangelo heard the familiar sound of wood being struck followed by a loud splash. His heart fell into the bottom of his shell- the prickly sense of realization settling in.

"What in the hell?!" The teen shouted while jumping up and down holding his foot.

"My baby," Mikey whispered to himself, the familiar sting of tears entering his eyes.

Mikey, biting his tongue until he tasted copper, willed himself to not cry out. He felt the loss and he knew that his skateboard would be beyond repair. He clawed at the side of his face. How could he have forgotten to grab it when he hid behind the rocks?

If he knew one thing, he knew that this boy now owed him a brand-new skateboard seeing as his was probably at the bottom of the pond by now.

Before he could officially enter his grieving phase, Mikey heard another small splash followed by the sounds of the teen grunting. Wood and metal scratching against the rock caused Mikey's eyes to widen as he watched the boy lay on his belly while pulling his skateboard to the shore.

Wiping the back of his hand across his brow, Mikey sighed in relief. His board had been spared.

Walking away from the pond, the boy plopped down on the ground and began removing his shoe to examine his foot. Once he was satisfied, he reached over towards the skateboard, turning it over in his hands.

"What is this...thing?"

Mikey frowned at the teen's question.

Was this kid seriously for real? Like, for real...for real?

Did he not recognize the fine piece of sporting equipment he was rubbing his grubby hands all over?

"It looks like...some sort of board with...four small wheels?"

Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a genius!

"I'll just leave it here I guess. Someone is bound to notice it's missing."

Setting the board gently to the side, the teen grabbed his binoculars and glanced towards the night sky. He sat still, clearly focusing on whatever he was trying to accomplish.

Michelangelo silently cheered from his hiding spot. All he needed to do was wait for this kid to lose interest and leave.

Seeing this distraction as his opportunity to put a safe distance between him and the kid, Michelangelo began quietly creeping to the edge of the park. He didn't want to be here for whatever reunion the weird teen was waiting for. Half way there, Mikey's senses directed his line of sight towards the park's center forest as two more figures, much larger than the teen, emerged from the darkness.

Michelangelo heard the familiar sound of chains rattling and a bat striking an open palm. He couldn't see clearly, but the two figures looked an awful lot like thugs who were walking with a purpose towards the pond.

The pond where he once was.

The pond that almost consumed his beloved skateboard.

The pond, where a boy sat alone, in the dark, and unaware of what was about to occur.

Michelangelo did not know this kid personally, but something told him that these two fools were not what the kid had in mind.

Why, of all nights, did he forget to grab his disguise?

* * *

 **(A/N): Oh, no! I smell trouble!**

A very special thank you to Ravenshell and Beeftony for beta reading this chapter and offering their infinite wisdom. You both are teaching me so much and I am starting to feel more confident as a writer.


	4. Chapter Three

**Take Me There**

By Wittykins

Chapter Three

* * *

When he was younger, Michelangelo used to watch nature documentaries with his brother, Donatello. Some of their favorites involved swarms of predators stalking an unsuspecting prey. The predators would use their surroundings and stealth to get as close to their victims as possible before striking them down with graceful ferocity.

It was a skill that he, as a ninja, truly admired because it allowed him and his brothers to obtain the upper hand against their enemies.

Sometimes, Mikey and Don would both shout at the prey to move, run, or hide but to no avail. The prey was always caught in the exotic game of cat and mouse.

As he sat watching the scene before him unfold in slow motion, Mikey relived those days on the worn couch in their lair, shouting at a screen, willing sanctuary for the innocent prey.

The boy, now aware of what was going around him turned his head and faced his predators.

Internally, Mikey begged the kid to move.

The kid did not.

He begged the kid to hide.

The kid sat on his backside.

He begged the kid to run.

The kid didn't run; in fact, he did not move a muscle. He just stood there with his mouth hanging open and his eyes as wide as dinner plates, the look of pure terror encompassing his entire body.

Michelangelo sprang into action in the direction of the commotion.

"Hey, kid, you need to run!"

His small plea fell upon deaf ears as no one took notice of the upright turtle hurtling across the grassy knoll. The distance between the pond and his current location seemed to have doubled in size. His legs, weighed down with anticipation, kept pushing forward, flying over the soft blades of grass.

"Kid, run!"

If his brothers were here there would be no second guessing. The two goons would be lying on the ground, begging for mercy. However, the lack of cover and the potential teenage witness made the orange clad turtle's stomach twist into knots.

He, like the boy, was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Should he help and expose his family to more people?

Or should he let one's fate take its course?

Leo always said, "Ninjas fight with honor," and at this very moment, all he could hear was his oldest brother's voice echoing through his head. He couldn't leave the boy, especially since he was more than capable of stopping a potential tragedy. It would be dishonorable for him as a ninja to turn his back on someone in need, and boy, did this kid look needy right now.

Leo was right.

Michelangelo gritted his teeth and pressed forward, making peace with whatever consequences that might arise after this ordeal. When he got a little closer, he could vaguely see the two goons. Rolling his eyes, he picked up his pace irritated by the fact that _these_ clowns, the East Side Boyz, were the ones causing trouble.

"Kid, you need to move!"

The Eastside Boyz were a mediocre gang known for managing the petty drug and crime operations of larger more powerful organizations. In the world of street gangs, these guys were at the bottom-the scum of New York. They were more of a nuisance than anything. Mikey and his brothers had no problems roughing up the gang's members, and today, it appears that Swordfish and Mr. Piggy were on patrol.

Like a school of sharks surrounding a fatty seal, the two thugs zeroed in on their prey. As if the gravity of his situation finally made sense, the young teen screamed and began awkwardly shuffling backwards like a lame crab with one shoe.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," the boy babbled uncontrollably while scrambling to his feet.

He was trapped, and he knew it. In front of him were a couple of gang members who looked like they wanted to kill him. Scooting backwards a few more feet, the boy suddenly stopped once his foot reached the water's edge.

"Oh, shit!"

His eyes frantically darted around. Looking back and forth between the pond and the two men stalking towards him with the small forest at their backs. The boy's eyes finally rested on the ground. Reaching down, he grabbed the board that he fished out of the pond. Holding it up like a shield, the teen shouted at the two men to stay back.

"You seeing this, boss?"

The man with the baseball bat snickered with glee at the pathetic sight that stood a few feet in front of him. The man had a gaunt face with high cheekbones. His pointy chin was only his second most notable trait and if you asked anyone but him, it was slightly crooked. His most prominent feature however, his nose, was sharp and thin. So much so that his rotund right-hand man did not have the heart to tell him his nickname, Swordfish, that the rest of their crew bestowed upon him. His head looked exceptionally large in comparison to the rest of his body, precariously perched on top of his thin neck. He wore a long black trench coat bedazzled with the words "Boss Man" and the letters "ESB" on the back.

"Hey, kid, didn't your mommy ever teach you not to say such naughty words?"

The sound of a wooden pat striking an open palm continued echoing throughout the quiet park.

"Yeah, baby face," his portly chain-wielding friend teased, "it looks like we gotta teach you two lessons tonight. Number one, you should really mind who you're speaking with."

The gangly leader's second in command was surprisingly even less of a spectacle. The cliché duo appeared to be exact copies of each other, if and only if the later was from a parallel universe filled with shorter and heavier counterparts. His plump visage lacked his partner's prominent features. His skin instead, covered in a light sheen that made him look like his nickname, Pork Chop, a name bestowed upon him by his leader. Unlike him, the chief showed no hesitations using that moniker. Instead of a gaudy black trench coat, the jolly thug stood stiffly in a tight pair of black and white striped shirt that clung for its life to the man's protruding belly and a pair of black jeans.

Blinking slowly and then rapidly, the boy shook his head. His brows furrowed as he gawked at the two men.

"Number two," the more slender of the two interjected, "you shouldn't take things that don't belong to you."

"What're you talking about?" The boy stammered nervously while looking at the board in his hands, "Do you mean this? I was going to leave this here, I promise! I don't even know what it is."

"Enough!" The thin leader shouted while slowing his pace, "I am sick of your games, where is it!"

"Where is what? I-I've never met you guys before!"

Silence emerged between the two opposing parties as they sat staring at each other speechless. A cool wind snaked its way through the park sending a visible chill through the boy's body. Peeking behind his skateboard, the boy addressed the other two men, wearing a look of complete confusion, the thugs showing signs of irritation. The two men slowly faced each other, muttering in hushed tones. Scowling, the thinner of the two men spun to face the teen.

"Are you for real, kid?"

He stared at the two thugs his eyes holding a silent plea.

"Honest, you guys have the wrong person! I-I don't have whatever you're looking for!"

The larger of the two men stamped his foot in protest, growling at the stammering teen in front of them.

"Hey Boss, what do ya say we beat some sense into this kid – smarten him up a little?"

The boy, glancing to his left and right, gulped. From this angle, it looked like he didn't have very many options for an escape.

"K-Keep away from me! I'm warning you, I'm not afraid to use...this?"

As the teen stood there in a threatening stance, holding the skateboard as if it was the deadliest weapon on the face of the planet, the two thugs erupted into a fit of laughter each holding onto their sides as if they had just seen the funniest sight on earth. The thin man was the first to speak

"Man, you always were a jokester, but that ain't gonna help you now. You owe us something."

"Yeah," the chubby thug sneered, "and we always collect what's rightfully ours."

The boy's eyes shifted uncomfortably between the two gentlemen, wincing at the malice behind their words. It was clear that he knew how they collected their belongings and he wanted no part of it.

"Stay away from me or I'll, I'll, I'll, um-"

"Or you'll what?"

"Yeah, baby face, you'll do what?"

"I'll make you regret whatever you're going to do?"

"Oh, dear, you'll do what now?" The rounder man teased. The two thugs began laughing maniacally, mimicking the teen's empty threat while slowly closing in on him.

"Heya, Boss, doesn't it sound like uh Baby Face here is uh…threatening us?"

"Yeah," the slender thug sneered "it sure does sound like this squirt here is threatening the East Side Boyz."

"We let no one get away with threatening the Eastside Boyz, ain't that right, Boss?"

"No, we don't!" The taller of the two members stood right in front of the boy. He held the wooden baseball bat firmly in his hand, glaring down at the trembling boy with a smirk. He licked his lips, fully exposing his crooked teeth while basking in the absolute power he had at this present moment.

A guttural roar sailed through the night air, knocking everyone completely off their guard. Mikey's eyes widened, that sound came from the kid.

"I said leave me alone...please!"

The boy ran towards the taller man screaming and thrashing his makeshift weapon around like a clumsy knight trying to slay two oddly shaped dragons. The taller man recoiled, grimacing at the sudden change in his demeanor. Before he had time to retaliate, the teen yelped and began running away from the duo, making a sharp turn towards the benches along the paved walking path to the left of the pond.

His gait was awkward as he hobbled away from the scene wearing one shoe and clenching the board tightly to his chest. His screams leaving little bread crumbs for his assailants to follow.

Before long, the two thugs were hot on his heels.

"Shit, kid. You really gonna make us chase ya?!"

He did not entertain his attackers with a response. He kept on running, his feet pounding into the ground, his ragged breathing filling the empty air between his horrified screams. He frantically weaved through the small spaces between the benches that lined the edge of the path.

"Help, somebody help me! Two weird men are chasing me!"

A frustrated growl emerged from one of the gang members as the teen evaded his grasp.

The thinner man was closing in on the teen, effortless squeezing through the smaller spaces. His eyes looked feral, just like a predator right before it executed a deadly attack. His second in command however was not as graceful as the other two. He had a difficult time weaving through the spacing between the benches, deciding to ultimately stick to the thick grass that boarded the paved trail.

"Please, I am not who you think I am!"

"I know exactly who you are," the man spat between labored breaths grunting as he avoided a metal trash can, "and you are going to pay double for everything that you stole!"

The teen looked behind him, his eyes filled to the brim with confusion and fear at the sight of the two men chasing him. Turning back around, his foot clipped the edge of one of the benches sending him sprawling through the air.

A sickening crunch followed by a muffled scream cut through the park. The boy had fallen face first, landing on the skateboard which had previously served as both his shield and his weapon. Lying on the ground, the kid moaned. He remained on the ground in a dazed stupor as footsteps quickly drew closer to where he sat in a heap of limbs and chipped wood. Blinking to clear is fuzzy vision, he made a fruitless attempt at crawling away from the thin man who was now just a few feet from him.

"Please, I-I don't know what I did wrong!"

Slowing to a stop, the taller man reached to the ground. After a moment, he stood up, dangling the teen by his shirt with a satisfied grin. In between the boy's protest, you could hear the man whooping at his prized catch.

His sidekick was still picking up the rear but he made sure to give his boss a thumb up in approval.

Turning his attention to the boy who was now squirming to break free, the thug gave the teen a violent jerk, tightening his grip on his shirt. Raising his bat, the man thrusted it into the teen's chest, enunciating every word.

"Oh, I am going to make you pay for that, kid!"

Blood curdling screams pierced the park's still air as the young teen threw his hands up to protect his face. The area's citizens might not be able to hear the park's laughter from five blocks away, but that scream was probably heard in the next state over.

Michelangelo took this as his opportunity to make his presence known. Sprinting forward, he stopped just short of the head goon and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Hey, Boss!"

"What do you want, Pork Chop?!"

"Nothing, I just thought that it was a nice night to do a little fishing, don't you think?"

"What th-?!"

A solid thud hit the bat-wielding maniac from behind causing him to drop the boy and his bat while tumbling unceremoniously into the pond. The man resurfaced noisily cursing and coughing up water while frantically dog paddling to shore. He could have sworn he was on dry land a moment ago.

"What in the hell just happened?"

Michelangelo, a blur of green and orange quickly picked up the wooden weapon and broke it over his knee. Locking eyes with the stouter of the two grunts, Mikey moved so that he was standing between the boy and the thug. Throwing the broken bat to the ground, Mikey reached towards his belt, his hands resting on his nunchakus.

"Pork Chop, it's one of them uh, tortoise freaks!"

Rolling his eyes, Mikey homed in on the rounder gang member with a smirk.

"Hey Piggy, Piggy. Miss me?"

"Get away from me, freak, this don't concern you!"

Mikey said nothing. He kept his eyes locked on the large man, slowly stalking him like a feral cat. It only took him a moment to assess and determine that this cowardly crook posed no threat.

His playful smile quickly turning into a mischievous sneer.

"Well, when a man of your, uh, stature picks on someone innocent it becomes my business, dude."

"Ah go back to the pet store where you belong, y-you...tortoise!"

Mikey began laughing surprising himself by how venomous he sounded. If Raph were here, man, he would have been proud. He pressed forward, his feet now touching the soft moist grass.

"You know, my round friend, from the sounds of it maybe _you_ should be the one taking a trip to the pet store. I mean, you clearly don't know your animals. Why don't you go and get cultured?"

The larger man gawked at the turtle a small tremble rolling throughout his body.

Mikey's grip tightened around the worn familiar leather that covered his nunchucks. Slowly, he pulled on out from its place on his belt, letting the end of the weapon dangle menacingly by his side.

"No?" Mikey purred slowly stalking the terrified goon, "you know, the way those chains are trembling in your hands makes me think that you are trying to threaten me."

"No, I-I-"

"Do you know what I like to do with people who threaten me?"

The large man fumbled backwards, his shirt gradually ascending his bulging stomach. Mikey smirked. While he knew this gangbanger probably couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag, he wasn't going to deny himself a piece of enjoyment. He made a lunge for the man, allowing his features to contort into a gruesome snarl.

"I rip their faces of and feed their corpses to my mutant alligator!"

With that, the softened criminal dropped his chains and began barreling his way in the opposite direction shouting, "Boss, he's uh going to eat me!" over his shoulder.

"Run, Pork Chop, let's get out of here!"

"Boss, he ain't gonna be happy that we're coming back without the money!"

"Shut up," the thin man wheezed, "and keep running!"

The two founding members of the infamous East Side Boys ran away from that location near the pond with their tails tucked between their legs in defeat. The continued along the benched path towards the entrance of the park.

Smiling, Mikey struck a valiant pose, basking in the glory that followed his amazing victory. "Make sure you tell the rest of your crew about your friendly neighborhood tortoise and what I do to cowardly badly dressed gangbanger punks!"

Michelangelo flexed his muscles mimicking the sounds of a crowd going wild. He took the time to thank a few of his imaginary fans making sure to tell the paparazzi that they would need to sign a waiver and speak to his agent if they wanted any photos.

"No need to thank me, it's all in a day's work for the neighborhood's hero."

While enjoying his fictional limelight, Mikey forgot about the one-man audience behind him.

The young boy stared at the large oddly posing turtle standing in front of him. Rubbing his eyes, he thought for a second that the fall had affected him more than he had thought. Opening his eyes, he frowned, the talking turtle was still there. He knew he wasn't insane nor that this was something common.

"Sure, ma'am, I will gladly kiss your baby!"

That turtle came out of nowhere and just in a nick of time. His head was about to say hello to the business end of a baseball bat when suddenly, a green blur kicked the wiry thug into the pond.

"Well, my fans, if you really want to thank me, send a box of pizza my way."

He wasn't sure if he should be scared or concerned.

"What's that, Raph? I'm your hero and you would have been too scared to go after those thugs on your own?"

He had never seen a walking turtle before, especially one that talked about itself in the third person to imaginary fans.

"What's that Leo? Oh, yeah, I know…I am the turtle!"

The boy's mind was swimming with thoughts, each shouting at him to run in the opposite direction before the turtle turned its attention back towards him.

He knew that this spectacle before him was a rarity, but he was uncertain if there was an actual threat.

He knew that this green turtle thing had saved his life from the two crooks, but he didn't know if his fate now rested in another's hands.

"Donnie boy, relax! I tie my masks one knot at a time just like the rest of you. No need to fanboy over me!"

The boy kept coming up with scenarios, each more graphic than the last. He decided to ignore his racing ideas, choosing instead to take a risk and listen to something more powerful because the teen knew in his heart that when all was said in done, he was incredibly thankful to be alive.

Slowly, the teen stood up, clearing his throat while moving towards the lamppost.

Michelangelo, coming back to reality, immediately stopped his Miss. America wave and murmured a few curse words under his breath.

"Ah, shell…"

He forgot about the kid, the reason he was in this mess.

Mikey steadily turned, around facing the teen, who stood under the pale-yellow lamp post. The faint glow highlighted some of his features. Dark, thickly curled brown hair that defied the very laws of gravity perched ever so carefully on top a triangular face. His face had a soft and playful build to it, lacking a chiseled jawline which was due to his young age. His nose, splattered with a few brown freckles, was small and delicate. His full lips were prominent, but not distracting and had an unique poutiness.

The teen's wide set eyes are what threw Michelangelo for a loop. His eyes appeared relatively large in comparison to his head, adding to his already youthful features. Dark, long eyelashes framed the emerald green orbs whose intensity clearly shown under the dim lighting. Mikey had never seen eyes that green before. His thick eyebrows furrowed slightly as he tilted his head gently to the side.

The kid was lean, possessing an athletic build. His broad shoulders supported an elongated neck. He stood there, under the lamppost, with an unwavering stance which made him a little nervous.

By now, most people, after catching sight of him, would be heading for the hills.

"Um, uh, h-hi, can you, uh, can you hear me?""

Great, now the boy was trying to talk to him.

Maybe if he sat still and said nothing, the boy would lose interest and wander off? Donatello told him once that if he ever encountered a bear he should play dead so it goes away.

Kids and bears were almost the same, right?

"I, uh, t-thank you for, um, thank you for what you did back there. That guy nearly took my face off."

There was no denying it not, the boy had seen everything. Silently cursing, Mikey wracked his brain for a solution, he needed to do some serious damage control. Michelangelo began to slowly back away from the pond. Waving his fingers in a circular motion.

"Pay no attention to the turtle standing in front of you," Mike uttered in an ominous tone while waving his hands in a circular motion, "for you are under the influence of the, uh…um, that…t- the drugs, yes, the drugs!"

Mikey could see the boy's eyebrows pinching in and his head tilted even further to the side. He uneasily shifted his stance and thoughtfully bit his bottom lip. Shaking his head, he glared in Michelangelo's direction, his green eyes slicing through the darkness.

The boy had moved past the point of sheer curiosity to the threshold of complete disbelief.

"I'm under the influence of what now?"

"The drugs, oh, so scary and um…irresponsible, yes, you should be ashamed! Bad boy!"

"Uh, yeah, I am going to have to say no, I am not under the influence of 'the drugs'."

"Oh really? Then why were you strolling through the park at night looking at the sky with those?" Mikey accused, never breaking character.

"The binoculars?"

"Yes, the binoculars of bad decisions, no doubt!"

Mikey continued moving his hands in a circular motion while adding his own mysterious sound effects.

"I was uh, you know, looking at the stars. Can you stop with that weird voice, it's kind of freaking me out?"

"I can't, I am just a figment of your altered imagination!"

"No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am; there's no denying it, now go to sleep!"

"I promise you, a giant turtle speaking with a weird voice in the park at night will be the last thing I ever dream about."

Sighing, Mikey dropped his hands down to his side. It was no use trying to weasel his way out of this one. He broke the number one family rule. He was seen by a human, and not only that, he was having a conversation with said human.

His family was going to kill him.

The teen clasped his hands behind his back. Leaning forward on his tiptoes, he whispered in his direction.

"You're welcome,"

"Excuse me?" Mikey mumbled, glancing back at the boy who was now giving him a coy grin.

"I said thank you for saving my life, you know, from those two guys."

"Oh, yeah...um it's no big deal."

Lies.

It was a big deal.

In fact, it was the biggest of deals, and it was going to come back to bite him in the shell in some big way. He needed to leave. He needed to put as much distance between this kid and himself as possible. If he left now, he might even make it home before Master Splinter released the search and rescue crew.

"Just…. don't tell anyone about what you saw tonight, okay? I don't need any more trouble."

Turning around, Mikey slowly trudged his way back to the city realizing that the walk would have been faster if his skateboard wasn't crushed into a million different pieces. He didn't even bother looking at the wreck because he knew that it was beyond repair.

"Hey," the boy shouted while fumbling to put on his discarded shoe.

Mikey ignored him.

"Hey," the he repeated while chasing after him, "wait up, turtle guy!"

Mikey froze, clenching his fists at his side. His nails digging into the palms of his hands.

"Turtle guy?" He mouthed to himself, "was that the best name the he could have come up with?"

Normally, he would have been excited to meet another human. Honestly, he loved people. He loved topside culture, music, dancing, games, and food. Though it shamed him to admit it, he sometimes wished he was a human so that he could enjoy their luxuries daily.

However, something was off about this situation and he couldn't quite place his finger on it.

"You can't just leave me out here, you know," the boy stated catching up to him. "What if those guys come back? I would be toast on my own."

Mikey continued walking keeping his eyes on the ground. This was bad, so very bad. The kid was now following him around like a lost puppy, like Donnie followed around April! When Mikey exited the lair, he had no intentions of being someone's babysitter.

"Hey, you don't mind if I tag along for a bit, do you?"

Mikey rolled his eyes. He knew that he didn't have much of a choice. His mind wandered to the memory of seeing the boy stumbling around in the dark talking to himself. Mikey refused to believe the teen was stargazing. He, instead, was searching for something or someone.

Why was he shouting at the sky, and what exactly was he waiting for? Everyone knew that the city was the last place on earth anyone would want to pick up stargazing. Why was he also referring to the sky as his home?

Why were the East Side Boyz interested in him...was he one of their runners? Based on a few on their encounters, him and his brothers knew that the East Side Boyz did have a known presence on this side of town.

Those same thoughts ran through Mikey's mind for a few moments until he felt a gentle hand on his carapace.

"Hey, turtle boy, are you okay?"

Abruptly stopping, Michelangelo spun around facing the teen, cringing at the sight of the binoculars hanging from the boy's neck. This had gone on long enough, and the young turtle just knew that he needed to get to the bottom of it. No teen in their right mind would be willing to follow a giant green monster around a dark park.

Something just didn't add up.

As he listened to the kid, he thought back to tonight's film choice, _Sweeney Todd._ What if this kid was crazy like the older teenage boy in the film? Shuddering, Mikey winced at the thought of the teen in front of him having a secret stash of relics he collected off the bodies of his victims.

For once, Michelangelo was content with having a bald green head instead of a golden mane.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" Mikey questioned, shaking his head at the sight of the fashion disaster.

Now that the boy was standing next to him, he could clearly see his outfit, if you could call it that. The boy's pants, more holes than fabric, were being kept together by what Mikey could only explain as a hope and a prayer. His button-down shirt was not only outdated, it was an outdated button down paisley shirt. The teen's binoculars and a pair of solid black sunglasses both occupied the space around his neck. The worst infraction though, was the fact that Mikey now noticed the kid wasn't wearing shoes.

No, instead, he was sporting a pair of hiking sandals and wool socks.

What has this world come to?

If anyone should be afraid, it should have been him. The kid was a walking mess, and that's saying something coming from a him, a talking turtle.

"What?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?"

"I-I don't know what you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, dude. Why aren't you running away from me screaming that some giant monster is here to suck your brains out or something?"

He stood quietly for a few moments seriously contemplating the question. Frowning, he carefully tilted his head to the side.

"Why would I do that?"

It was Mikey's turn to stare wide eye at the boy, his mouth agape. He wasn't sure what game this kid was playing. If it wasn't for the fact that Mikey witnessed the boy's ability to see, he would have chalked this moment to him being blind.

Or, on drugs.

"I mean," Mikey replied sarcastically while motioning to his shell and green skin. He dramatically brought his hands up to frame his face, "notice anything out of the ordinary?"

"Yeah," the boy stated while tapping his chin thoughtfully, "you're wearing a bright orange mask-is that some sort of disguise?"

"Yes, wait, no, no, n-"

"You are carrying weapons?"

"No, I-"

"Oh, you're naked," the boy nodded solemnly, "Do you ever get cold?"

"N-no, I am not naked! Try looking at the whole picture," Mikey moaned while scrubbing a hand down his face.

"Oh…you are a…talking turtle?"

"Uh, yeah, dude. I am a giant walking talking turtle in case you haven't noticed."

The boy glanced upwards, silently thinking to himself. When he was satisfied, he shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Yeah, not the weirdest thing I've ever seen."

Mikey stared at the kid in complete disbelief. Maybe it wasn't too late to disregard the possibility of this kid being under the influence of some pretty heavy drugs.

"Do you want me to be afraid of you?" he looked at Mikey intently. The honesty in the question took the turtle completely off his guard.

"What?"

"Do I have a reason to be afraid of you? Is that how someone here would normally act upon seeing you?" The teen's green eyes were now locked on Mikey, as if they could see right through him. He felt small under the boy's penetrating gaze. There was a sadness to his eyes, almost forlorn.

"Do…you want me to run away screaming?"

"Um, yes. Wait, no. Wait, well, yeah. Well," Mikey stammered, "No. If you are asking if I want you to be afraid of me, then it's a no. I mean, think about your question, dude. Who wants people to be afraid of them, you know, besides criminals? I'm more concerned that you're not afraid of me."

"Well, why?"

"Well, because..." Mikey paused while thinking to himself, "well, because everyone else is. That's just the way things are." Mikey grimaced. He wished he had a better explanation, but that was all his racing mind came up with. That reason totally sucked and it made his family's lives a living nightmare, but that was just the way it was.

"Oh, okay," the boy sing-songed with a quick nod, "well, until you give me a reason to be afraid of you, I am not scared. It's easy enough, right?"

"Well, wai-"

"'Sides, I figured if you wanted to hurt me, you'd have done it by now, y'know?"

The kid had a point. Still, something just didn't feel right.

"Did you have this encounter planned?" Mikey blurted, raising his brow.

"What?"

"Are you a creepy stalker who's been watching me from afar? Do you collect blonde hair?"

"Blonde what?"

"Have you killed someone and are hiding their body in a wooden chest?"

The boy's eyes and mouth were wide open in an expression of stunned surprise and confusion.

"I heard you talking to yourself, you said something about the pond being ground zero or...something. That leads me to think that you were trying to get ambushed, ambush me, or were you waiting for someone"

Crinkling his nose, the teen violently shook his head in disgust.

"Why would I do something like that?"

"I don't know, that is what I am trying to figure out. Why else were you in the park in the middle of the night?"

Crossing his arms, Mikey shot the him an accusing glare.

"You're a runner, aren't you?"

"Run? I don't run."

"Don't play dumb dude. No offense but look at you," motioning in his direction, drawing attention to the state of his tattered and outdated clothing. "Do you run for the East Side Boyz?"

"I don't understand what you are asking. I was running from those guys, don't you remember?"

At that moment, Michelangelo decided to employ an interrogation tactic often used by his older brothers-silence. If he held a stoic face and refused to answer the teen, the truth would find its way out...

"I don't run for anyone?"

Well, at least that tactic always worked on him.

Waving his arms around frantically the teen motioned in the direction of the destroyed skateboard.

"Clearly I am not! Didn't you just see me trip over myself back there? I have a feeling that I might actually be terrible at running."

Tugging on the tails of his masks Mikey groaned. He was getting nowhere with this kid. How did Leo have the patience to interrogate people?!

"Oh, dear god...are you serious? You're...you're pulling my shell, aren't you? Ha-ha! Jokes on me! You, my dear sir, are filled with so many puns!"

"No, I-" looking down, the boy's shoulders hunched and his entire demeanor shifted. Whatever he was going to say was lost to the dirt as his statement trailed off into nothing. In that moment, the kid looked ragged, tired even and Mikey felt the pangs of guilt welling up into the pit of his stomach. When the boy's eyes traveled upwards and met his own, he saw pain.

Maybe the kid wasn't joking after all.

"So... hypothetically let's just say that you're, not a runner. What exactly were you doing here at night and how do you know that gang?"

"I don't know them, honest!" Mikey could see by the way the boy averted his eyes that something was troubling him and he was trying to find the right words, "And I was just doing nothing, okay?"

"Really?" Michelangelo did not believe the kid for one second, "Well, my father always tells me that a whole lot of nothing usually ends up being a whole lot of something."

"Honest, it was nothing."

Dismissing the invasive questioning, the teen turned around and began walking away.

"Hey, dude, don't walk away from me I am not done with you!"

He didn't turn around. Instead he kept going. Peeking over his shoulder, the teen smiled.

"Now, I don't know about you, but I want to get the heck out of here before those two weirdos come back with friends. I'm taking the back way out of the park. We must walk up the concrete hill, but it's a short cut to the street. It's a bit more discreet than going through the front. Would you like to join me?"

At this point, Michelangelo had no choice. He needed to get underground and it needed to happen fast. He had a long way home ahead of him and it he would take any reeducation to his time.

Sighing, he begrudgingly followed behind the teen.

Before they got very far, the slightly taller of the two gasped and turned around as if he forgot something. Awkwardly, the teen thrusted his hand towards the orange-banded turtle. The kid's fingers were long but overall, his hands looked strong.

Mikey stared at the kid's open hand, noticing a faint crescent shaped scar on the palm. It looked as if the boy had grabbed something hot and the design was cauterized into his tender flesh.

The boy's green eyes locked onto Mikey's eyes, a tiny smile surfacing. The gentle breeze that lazily rolled about the park caused his gravity defying hair to slowly wave upon his head.

"I believe that it is customary to shake hands once two strangers are introduced, correct?"

"Umm," Mikey muttered, cocking his head to the side, "yeah I guess."

The turtle tentatively stuck out his hand and the boy wasted no time. Without a moment's hesitation, the teen grabbed Michelangelo's hand and gave it a few good shakes. For a kid, his handshake was firm, his movements awfully robotic, and his hands exceptionally warm. When the boy released Mikey's hand, he could still feel his heat.

"The name that I have been given is Miles, what's yours?"

Mikey exhaled and met the boy's gaze. The teen had already been around him this long. There was no harm in giving him his name.

"Michelangelo," he whispered carefully, taken aback by the odd introduction, I prefer Mikey though."

"Well, Mikey not Michelangelo, I guess we're not strangers anymore." The kid turned around with a smirk leading his companion towards the direction of the park's exit.

Mikey eyes traveled down the length of his guide's body, his eyes almost bulging out of his head.

"No," he inaudibly mouthed, "he can't be serious."

Miles was sporting a bright yellow Jansport fanny pack that he wore on his backside. With every confident step the teen took, the fanny pack lightly bounced like a bright neon yellow beacon of light. Groaning, Michelangelo couldn't help but to cover his face in shame. Not so much for him, but on the boy's behalf. New York City was home to some pretty eclectic fashion, but this was beyond ridiculous.

Had he not noticed what people wore around the city?

Was he not the least bit embarrassed?

Had no one told him that he looked out of place, even for this eccentric metropolis?

Yeah, this kid was not from around here but at this moment, Mikey consciously pushed that thought to the back of his mind. His main goal was getting them both home safely. If that meant he had to follow Miles and his obnoxious yellow fanny pack to get out of the park then so be it.

The two teens walked in silence for most of their short journey, their footsteps echoing loudly as they ascended the small paved hill. Once they reached the hill's plateau, Mikey reached out a hand and grabbed onto Miles' shoulders. The teen turned around, his head cocked slightly to the side.

"Yeah?"

"Miles, before I forget…I had something very important to ask you."

"Yes, Mikey, what is it?"

Mikey chuckled while rubbing the back of his neck and pointing towards the site of the destroyed skateboard. "You totally owe me a new skateboard, dude. When should I expect to see it?"

"What?!"

"Dude, why are _you_ shouting!? You totally crushed mine while you were running away from those goons!"

"That was _your_ skateboard?!"

"Yeah, it was _my_ skateboard and you owe _me_ , big time bro."

"I am not your bro and I don't owe you anything. Why did you leave it in the middle of the walkway? Sounds like you owe yourself a new skateboard!"

Mikey stomped his feet while crossing his arms over his plastron. Miles was proving to be incredibly uncooperative. Why wouldn't he just own up to that he did and replace his board?

"This is how you thank me for saving your life?" The statement was a low blow, but Michelangelo was not opposed to playing dirty for the sake of his skateboard.

"Oh, now you want some thanks," Miles spat. "Let me show you how _thankful_ I am."

The people living within the park's radius may not have been able to hear the park's infamous laughter from five blocks away, nor the terrified shriek of a boy in trouble. However, if anyone on that fateful night had been in earshot, they would have heard a very heated argument between two teenage boys disputing the specific terms of a skateboard debt.

While the nearby inhabitants would have preferred the argument to have occurred at a more decent hour, preferably with a notary around, no one was alarmed by the mild annoyance.

This city, after all, was used to some of life's more peculiar affairs.

* * *

(A/N) A special thanks to Ravenshell and BeefTony for beta reading.


	5. Chapter Four

**Take Me There**

By WittyKins

Chapter Four

 _Thank you Ravenshell and BeefTony for beta reading._

* * *

The route that Miles favored was indeed out of sight and out of mind. After exiting the park by crawling through a large gap in a chain-link fence, Michelangelo stepped into the forgotten wasteland of a neighborhood treated poorly by time. Deep grooves in the sidewalk and shards of glass and trash sharply contrasted with the smooth, clean concrete his feet had grown accustomed to at the park.

Taking in his new surroundings, a feeling of uneasiness washed over him. This was a rough part of town known for its petty crime and strong gang presence.

As the duo slowly stalked their way through the desolate streets, the blackened veil of the night's sky could not disguise the area's state of complete disarray. Buildings, with their aged faces, sagged against their foundations, growing wearier with each new generation. Street lamps flickered rhythmically, their steady hum polluting the night's air as the occasional citizen aimlessly walked by. Potholes of various sizes covered the street like the craters of the moon, the struggle of cars making their presence known.

The boys walked in silence amongst the neighborhood's shadows, using the extensive maze of alleyways as their own private highway. The occasional distant pop from a gun followed by the shrill whine of a police siren warranted a few exchanged nervous glances. The further they walked into the city, the more Mikey thought about the teen stiffly leading the way.

With hands stuffed deep into his pockets and balled into tight fists, he quickly strolled by a crudely constructed home consisting of collections of cardboard boxes, plastic sheets, and scrapped tin. Shoulders slumped, he nervously murmured at Mikey to keep following him as a scantily clad woman with emerged from the makeshift doorway smiling at them with matted hair and blackened teeth. Her sunken eyes watched them hungrily. The woman made a kissing face at him and batted her eyes, her sharp cheekbones jutting out against her paper-thin skin.

"Hey, cutie," the woman slurred with hooded eyes "ya in need of some company?"

The woman reached a frail, shaky hand towards her shoulders. Her bony fingers seductively slid the strap of her tank top down towards her upper arm. His heart drummed against his chest as the woman took a tentative step towards where they were standing.

Turning his head, he could only see the back side of Miles. He, unlike Mikey, never stopped.

"If ya like what you see...only cost ya... twenty bucks."

A small shriek escaped his lips as he backpedaled away from the woman. Was this woman desperate, or blind? Did she just offer him, some of her services?

"Uh, I don't know what you're selling... but I don't want any."

With a grimace, Michelangelo sped up to walk closer to the teen whose head hung down as they shuffled their way through the chaotic alley. The further they walked, the more he thought about the teen's odd request to be escorted home. It didn't make a ton of sense, really. The two thugs had run off long before they had even left the park.

Perhaps Miles' biggest fears didn't just end with the infamous East Side Boyz.

He couldn't blame him, this area screamed bad news. Having patrolled this part of town with his brothers, he was vaguely familiar with the types of individuals who preferred to commit crimes here. There were a couple of small local gangs each battling for turf, and unfortunately, it was often innocent bystanders who suffered the consequences of their war. The area also hosted a prostitution ring and was a favorite spot for drug peddling.

A tremble shot up Michelangelo's spine as he noticed that they were now walking dangerously close to the neighborhood's buildings. "Miles, are you sure that no one can see us?" he whispered while quickly glancing around. "Those buildings are like, uh, really close, you know?"

"Positive," Miles reassured shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, the windows face the streets. No one can see us if we stick to the alleys."

"Okay, if you say so…"

Glancing up with a frown, Mikey's eyes traced the distressed concrete faces of the buildings. Aside from the extensive graffiti that decorated every inch of the crumbling brick, no windows were in sight. If this were under different circumstances, he probably would have admired the art left behind by some anonymous taggers. A small cough brought his attention back to Miles. As if he could sense Mikey's uneasiness, the teen turned around with his index finger raised as if he had stumbled upon the world's greatest discovery.

"Now, where was I?" Snapping his fingers, he glanced over his shoulders, flashing a playful grin. "Oh, furthermore, how much could you have really liked your skateboard if you left it stranded in the middle of a walkway?"

Tugging on the tails of his mask, Mikey groaned. This was so not happening. Sprinting to catch up with the teen who had begun walking away, Mikey gritted his teeth. "Oh my…are we still talking about this? You can't be serious, you're acting like a...like a big baby!"

Flashing a triumphant smile, Miles arrogantly glanced in the young turtle's direction. "I am not a baby, but I am serious. So, explain."

Whining while squeezing his eyes shut so tight that they hurt, Michelangelo stamped his foot in protest. "Dude, don't you dare give me that smug look! We've been over this like a bazillion times it happened wh-"

"Turn here."

"Here?"

"Yeah, here. Watch your step."

Mikey effortlessly sidestepped a pile of splintered wood. "Thanks. Like I was saying, it happened when I ran to hide from you behind those rocks. How was I supposed to know a crazy teen was going to show up out of nowhere? I may be a mutant turtle, but that doesn't make me a mind reader. You know, if you really think about it, I wouldn't have forgotten my board if it wasn't for your little adventure under the st—"

"We are going to make a right up here."

"A right? Here?" Mikey pointed towards a narrow alleyway lined with trash bins, though he didn't see why. Judging by the piles of junk lying around, it seemed as if people didn't bother making sure their garbage actually made it into the bins. Pinching his nose with his free hand, his eyes began to water. He glanced uneasily at the teen who had pulled his own paisley printed shirt over his nose. Nodding in Mikey's direction, the teen mumbled something about the smells getting better once they rounded the corner.

God, he sure hoped so.

It literally smelled as if something had crawled into the mountains of junk and died. It was almost as bad as the smells that slipped from Leo after taco night. It was a little-known fact that beans and dairy did not sit well with his older brother in blue.

The duo walked silently, focusing on trying to breathe as little as possible. The stench hung thick in the air. So thick that Mikey felt as if he opened his mouth, he would taste it. True to his word, once the boys turned the corner the smell significantly subsided. Miles lowered his shirt while giving Mikey a sympathetic smile.

Looking around, he noticed that the level of trash in this portion of the alleyway was less than in the other sections. I guess the people living on this part of the block actually found the trash bins useful.

A scream erupted from one of the apartment buildings above them followed by a crash and the sound of someone shouting in an even louder voice. The teen's eyes wandered in the general direction of the spat. By the sounds of it, whoever was involved were not happy. Both boys sat in silence, entranced by the sheer amount of noise that was escaping from the building.

"So..." Miles began as he began walking ahead. "Where were we again?"

Shattering glass filled the night air as a few choice words escaped from one of the fight's participants. Mikey tore his eyes away from the building and began to follow behind Miles slowly.

"Um... so, yeah," he began slowly. "In case you forgot, not only did you kick my skateboard into the pond, you crushed it. Besides, everyone who's anyone on the face of the entire universe knows that if you, like, break it, you buy it!"

"Mikey, no, they don't."

"Dude, yes, they do. It's like… international law or something."

Scoffing, the teen rolled his eyes while carelessly flicking his wrist.

"Mikey, I highly doubt that."

"Yes, it is! I swear!"

"No, it isn't"

Suddenly, Miles slowed to a stop, silently nodding towards a building to his left. Glancing down at the ground, he frowned as if something was impressive on the dirty street. Kicking at a misplaced pebble, he wrinkled his nose while biting his lip.

"Yes, it – is this… it?!"

Mikey's heart fell into the pit of his shell. Now, he may not have known much about real estate in New York; he lived in a freaking sewer after all. However, of all the sad buildings he had seen in his short teenage life, and he had seen some sad ones, this one, by far, took the cake.

Scratch that, it took the entire fucking birthday party. Clown and cheap party favor included. To put it simply, the building was a dump, a complete pile of steamy hot shit.

Who was he kidding... this building even made crap look good.

The sidewalk leading to the back door had more cracks than concrete, and the gravel foundation was clearly visible in some places. The stairs at the end lay in a crumpled heap, the guard railing tossed carelessly to the ground. The door had a large dent, its window completely missing. The light bulb that was supposed to be illuminating the shabby building hung precariously on an exposed wire, swinging lazily against the steady wind. Every inch of the building's back wall was covered in some type of tag, which did nothing to hide the deteriorating stones beneath the paint. Most of the building's windows were boarded up which probably meant that very few people occupied its rooms.

Raising his eyebrows in the teen's direction, he quickly glanced back at the wreck lying in front of them.

By comparison, the surrounding buildings looked fit for royalty. Was this kid sure that this was where he lived? Clearing his voice, Mikey gave a hesitant chuckle.

"Are you… uh… are you sure this is your stop?"

The boy seemed to collapse in on himself. His shoulders slumped even lower, and he shakily brought his hands out of his pockets only to wrap them loosely around his midsection. With a tense nod, the teen mumbled an affirmative response.

"Yeah, this is it…"

Glancing at Miles, he could tell that he was ashamed by his current living situation. It wasn't his intention to make him feel uncomfortable. He of all people knew that one's living arrangement wasn't always something that one could control. Smiling, he gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder causing Miles to peek up nervously.

"Hey… I was, uh… only asking because you were the one looking for your home in the sky, y'know. I don't really care where you live."

His full lips broke into a tentative grin as his nose wrinkled. Tilting his head slightly to the side, his green eyes shone under the pale-yellow glow of the surrounding artificial light. Dropping his hands from their place around his midsection, the teen gave a slow shrug.

"I know it's not much to look at, but it is home for now."

His gaze fell on the dented door that led to the building's entrance as if he was debating about whether he wanted to enter. If the door offered any reflection of the building's interior, Mikey was sure that the internal living conditions were not much better.

"So," Mikey trailed, attempting to break the silence, "do you, um, have someone waiting inside for you or anything?"

If it wasn't for the fact that he was trained to pick up the subtleties of one's body language, he would have missed the slight tensing of the boy's body at his question. Miles winced slightly, training his eyes on the fractured concrete before him. Rocking forward slightly to his toes, he quietly glanced in Mikey's direction. Gently biting his pouty lips, the boy offered a subtle half shrug. Mikey stared into his endless green eyes, his silence speaks volumes and the realization about the teen's situation became apparent.

No one is waiting for him in his home.

No one pacing around pissed off that he is arriving late.

No one to notice if he even made it home safe every day.

No one was there to give a fuck about him.

This kid was on his own.

Suddenly, his fear about his father and brothers wondering about his whereabouts seemed insignificant because at least he had someone looking out for him. A family who would notice if he were to suddenly disappear into the wild heart of the urban jungle. People who actually gave a damn about him. For the first time since meeting the boy, Mikey felt something other than mild annoyance and inconvenience.

He felt pity.

Pure, genuine, and unbridled pity.

And it tasted like the brine in the canned olives Donnie liked to eat.

He had no idea what trouble he could have possibly gotten into, but if a gang was after him causing him to take up residence in the neighborhood's shit hole, it must have been terrible. Unfortunately, it wasn't an uncommon problem. While on patrol Mikey and his brothers had seen many feral children wandering the streets alone. Some joined gangs for protection while others took up residence in abandoned buildings. Some were addicted to drugs while others resorted to more drastic occupations in an attempt to survive.

A deep rumble pulled Michelangelo out of his thoughts. Looking towards the teen, he watched as he placed a shaky hand over his stomach while wincing sharply as the rumbling increased in volume and intensity. The teen bared his teeth, a quiet hiss escaping from his mouth like steam leaking from a small pipe.

He knew the feeling. In fact, he was very familiar with the pain of hunger. During their early days, Master Splinter struggled to keep food on the table, especially during the colder months. The pain of complete hollowness was something that he had the fortune of not experiencing for a while now; nonetheless it was a feeling that one couldn't forget.

"Are... you okay, dude?"

The teen hesitated, finally shaking his head yes while opening his eyes.

"I, uh, I just need to lay down or something."

He could see through the lies.

Hunger looked the same on everyone.

Frowning, Mikey tightly crossed his arms against his plastron, fully taking in the sight of his newfound human acquaintance. His peculiar appearance didn't fit the typical mold of what he usually saw around the city. Questions began to surface in his mind, but before he could ask them, Miles turned to face him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you for saving my life, Mikey."

He paused while letting his green eyes roll up towards the night's sky. Frowning, his eyes drifted downwards until they locked on his own.

His eyes were captivating, and he was pulled into the boy's seemingly endless gaze. As they stared at each other, Mikey couldn't understand how someone could look so close yet so far away at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, "all in a night's work for the mutant next door."

The boy's stare wandered up to the sky once more, sweeping the blank canvas quickly. His eyelids squinted as he focused in on something in the sky. Wordlessly, he reached for his binoculars pulling them to his face as he stared unmoving into the endless sea of darkness that covered this poor section of the city. He stood still while the wind gently tousled his hair and tugged on his tattered clothing. A small tongue poked its way out of his mouth tucking itself into the corner of his full lips.

Frowning, Mikey crossed his arms. He didn't understand what the kid was hoping to see in the night sky. No stars were visible, and on nights like this night, he was lucky that he could even see the moon.

"What are you looking for?"

He was met by nothing but the background noise of the city. Miles continued staring at the sky, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. Sighing, Mikey inched his way closer to the teen. Tapping him on the forehead, he sneered when Miles recoiled backward with wide eyes.

"Hello, earth to Miles!"

"Yeah?"

"What do you keep looking for in the sky... your head has literally been in the clouds all night."

"Look, I am just looking for the stars, okay?" Pointing towards the roof of his building, he shrugged. "A while ago I explored my building, and I found the roof access. When I tried opening it, I realized that it was bolted shut. The city is really bright, so I thought the park would be a good idea because it has significantly fewer lights."

"Why are you so obsessed with seeing the stars? I mean, you picked the worst city to be a stargazer, you know."

"It's not like I had much of a choice, y'know!" the teen snapped with a sharp voice.

Mikey took a tentative step backward, confusion etched across his face. Miles, after realizing how pointed his reaction was, took a deep sigh, placing his binoculars back around his neck.

"Anyway, I didn't get to see them at the park because those dummies got in the way. I would like to again. There has to be some night where there is visibility, right?"

Mikey shrugged while giving a slow, uncertain nod. Technically, there were some nights where one could see some exciting stars if they were lucky... but those nights were few and far in between. For the most part, it was always too bright and too foggy.

"The park would be the best spot," Miles stated with determination. "However, I am afraid those guys will come back, and I don't think I will be able to fight them off. Would... would you mind, um, meeting me at the park?"

Mikey cocked an eyebrow in Miles' direction. He planted his hands firmly on his hips. Was this kid seriously asking him for help?

Miles took a step back, holding his hands up as if he was giving a sign of surrender.

"Look, I know this is weird. You don't know me and the circumstances under which we met are super weird."

"I mean... you did steal and break my skateboard..."

Miles visibly winced. His eyes, filled to the brim with pain, glanced down towards his feet in defeat. He stood silently for a few moments before slowly raising his head. "Look... I feel so bad for asking you, but," his voice trailed off into nothing as he sighed slumping his shoulders forward. Peeking in his direction with pleading eyes the boy's last statement was barely audible.

"I literally don't have anyone else to ask."

The wind picked up again, making the space between the two boys seem larger than what it was. Miles' eyes glimmered as the light from the surrounding street lamps reflected off the tears that were threatening to fall at any moment. His lip quivered, and his sturdy but thin frame began to tremble.

The sight before him was sad, and Mikey couldn't help but to have a soft spot for the kid. He of all people knew what it felt like to believe in something so strongly despite all odds. How could he call himself a member of the Hamato family if he knowingly allowed this kid to wander around the streets of New York at night without some sort of help?

His father warned them about getting too involved with the complicated lives of humans, and he knew that he was getting ready to break one of the family's biggest rules. However, he was a ninja, and he was trained to help and protect those who couldn't defend themselves. It was a no-brainer in the park, and it was a no-brainer here.

This kid had no one else to turn to so he would fill in.

Don often said that in some cases it was better to ask for forgiveness than beg for permission. In this moment, Mikey decided that he would beg for his father's forgiveness when the time came.

Mikey's eyes locked with Miles'.

Entranced by the way his eyes seemed to glitter in the pale glow of the street lights, Mikey gave a captivated nod. Even though he had made a big deal about it, he didn't mind, really. After all, the kid still owed him a skateboard, and he wasn't about to let that detail slide. Debt aside, he, like his brother Raph, was eager to do anything that allowed him to go topside. The trick would lie with finding a creative way to alert Miles if it was a night he could meet without drawing suspicions from his brothers and father.

Glancing around, Mikey's eyes fell on an abandoned metal flag stand bolted to the brick in the space about the dented door. This neighborhood wasn't too far from their normal patrol route… If he could slip away while they each canvassed a section of the city, he could potentially tie something to the aged metal the night before which would let Miles know that he was free to meet the following night.

Smiling at his plan, Mikey turned to face the shambled doorway, extending a green finger towards the metal stand, the teen's eyes followed suit.

"Before I agree to anything, you gotta understand that I can't meet every night. When it is a night that I can meet, I will tie something to that stand the night before."

Miles silently nodded, a small grin gracing his features.

"Woah, don't get too excited there, cowboy. I am doing this only to keep you from getting jumped by the wannabe thugs and to remind you about the skateboard that you still owe m—"

Like a flash of lightning, a blurred figure quickly moved from Mikey's peripherals suddenly enveloping him into an incredibly warm embrace. Thin arms tightly wrapped themselves around his neck and a thick, billowy cloud of dark hair temporarily blurred his vision. Try as he might, he could not dislodge himself from the overly appreciative boy who was squealing in his ear.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Dude, your hair is, like, totally in my face. Let go before I change my mind."

Words cascaded from Miles faster than Mikey's ears could pick up. Miles, still clinging tightly to his neck, giddily squealed in excitement. Mikey felt the heat radiating from the overly appreciative teen and struggled to slip his hands in between their two bodies so that he could dislodge him.

A loud rumble erupted from Miles causing him to pull away suddenly. Mikey's eyes widened, and a small blush made its way to the boy's freckled cheeks.

"I, um…" Miles stammered, "I guess I should get going, I am a little hungry."

"Yeah, you should probably go and feed that baby dinosaur you got in there."

Sticking out his tongue, Miles, quickly turning on his heel, walked towards his building. His footsteps crunched against the emerging gravel. One he was near the doorway, he picked up his pace, leaping over the collapsing pile of concrete steps and gracefully landing on the stoop. Pulling on the dented door, the sound of the hinges protesting the sudden movement ricocheted off the neighboring brick building. Before he walked into the darkened hallway, Miles turned around. Leaning on the doorframe, he shot Mikey a glance followed by a smirk. After giving Mikey a once over, he stood there for a few moments as if he was expecting an open invitation to enter his own home.

Quirking an eyebrow, Mikey's hands found their way to his hips. Sticking out his chin while leaning to the side, he tapped his foot, motioning for the teen to go inside.

He had places to be, after all.

"Any day now, princess, unless, of course, you're in need of door service…which costs extra."

Rolling his eyes while shifting his weight off the door frame, the teen shrugged, giving Mikey a wink and a half smile as he backed away into his building, the darkness swallowing him up as the door slowly began to close.

"I'll see you around, Mike."

The boy's chuckle was cut off by a large metallic thud filled the night air leaving Mikey in silence. Cutting his eyes at the door, his arms found their way across his plastron. Huffing, he quickly spun around, canvassing the area for a manhole cover.

"I'll see you around, Mike," he muttered bitterly while silently creeping down the alleyway. "Who does he think he is, trying to act so smug?"

Ducking behind a dumpster as a man and a scantily clad woman drunkenly giggled their way by, Mikey spotted a manhole cover at the far end of the alley. As the rhythmic tapping of the woman's high heels faded away into the distance, he quietly dashed to his one-way ticket home. Removing the cover, he climbed down the ladder, replacing the cover behind him.

Jumping down onto the moist bricks, Mikey exhaled loudly, the corners of his mouth tightening into a grin.

"I never thought I would say this, but it's good to be home!"

Glancing around with a shrug and a sigh of relief, he leaned against one of the sewer walls. Mikey immediately recognized this segment of the sewer because it was near their old lair that had been destroyed a couple years prior. The crumbling infrastructure, low hanging wires, and sagging pipes seemed fitting. It was as if the haggard city was slowly slipping away into the sewers because Earth could no longer support an area that was weighed down by life's disappointments and despair.

A nervous chuckle filled the deadened air while his hand gingerly found its way to the back of his head. Rubbing his neck slowly, his feet slowly shuffled forward. Sighing, he stole one last look towards the manhole cover.

"Well, kind of home."

He wasn't terribly far from their new lair, but he was not close either. If he kept up the pace, he could probably make it home in under an hour. He hoped that his brothers were too focused on their terrible movie to notice his absence.

As his pace quickened, his mind wandered back to his adventurous night with Miles. From the teen clumsily stumbling around the park, him almost getting his head caved in, and finally his thankfulness, Mikey could do nothing to stop the small smile that made its way to his lips. The kid, with all his quirks, had spunk, and he only hoped that he could help him find whatever it was he was looking for in the sky. Mikey broke into a dead sprint, and as he ran down the endless tunnels, he only thought of Miles.

Miles, the awkward and poorly dressed kid who had no one.

Miles, the overly appreciative teen who had found him, a life-form that no one wanted; and, who dared to set his sights well beyond the city's limits.

Miles, the human boy who was his new friend... maybe.

The thought of having someone else outside of their small circle of friends made Mikey whoop with joy, and he quickly began thinking about their next encounter. It was too early to start making plans, but he was impatient.

After all, that oddball still owed him a skateboard.

* * *

 **(A/N): Please read and review! Positive comments and constructive criticism are always welcomed!**


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